


All of You

by SlytherclawBlack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-30 05:30:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20441405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherclawBlack/pseuds/SlytherclawBlack
Summary: Hermione wants to keep her secret love a secret. Blaise wants to tell the world about his. Who gets their wish?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
This is a 3 part story with all parts already written.  
I couldn't have done without major support from Moon, Dash, and Snow. Thank y'all so much for encouraging me to write and share it with people. Moon has been my Editor Goddess and invaluable to me. I also apologize for any weird spacing. I'm doing this completely from my phone and it's not that fun. Lol  
ALL mistakes belong to me.  
Not mine no money. :(

Chapter 1

She sees him standing in a corner by himself; he’s leaning against the wall and sipping on something that would probably make her choke. She wonders why one of the multitudes of women he's always photographed with isn't with him. Their eyes meet and she’s lost in his melted chocolate gaze. He stalks toward her, even paced, and he has never reminded her of a predator more than he does in this moment. She feels very much like prey; her breath quickens, her pulse hastens to a crescendo and she just knows her face is flushing.

Like a speeding Hogwarts Express, images ﬂash through her mind. Sandalwood. Firewhiskey. Cigar smoke. Slick Skin. Rough stubble. Low cries. His large hands caress her thighs – so soft but oh sweet Lord, the heat rises with them. Her hair hanging down and keeping them in their own little word. The salt of his skin as she devours him is everything. His breath mingling with hers – further the temperature rises. How he chuckles softly when they’re done… she’s his… and he knows it.

"Granger."

Waking up she feels the charmed cool sheets and a warm body behind her. It feels glorious, what they've done but heart breaking by the same standard.

_Why do I keep doing this to myself? _

The soft sigh coming from him is all the answer she needs. Standing up she begins to get dressed and has only a moment’s flash of annoyance realising her knickers are toast. She smirks at the memory.

There is no grand goodbye. He doesn't even get out of the bed. She whispers a soft farewell and he just nods his head. It's what they do. What they've always done. As she leaves she feels the dark eyes of Blaise Zabini following her.

Hermione apparates directly into the living room of the ﬂat she shares with Harry and is assaulted by the smell of pancakes.

_Pancakes_? She thinks. _This is going to be one of those talks then_.

Sighing she walks into the kitchen to see a pensive look on Harry’s face as he leans over the stove. "How was your night love?"

"You already know Harry. Let's just get this over with."

He nods and takes a breath before he begins the words he has said at least a hundred times. "How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself? How long until you stop letting him make you feel like this? You come home like a completely different person; withdrawn, almost lost. You never go out with anyone. He doesn’t offer you anything and you still keep going back. I don’t get it."

Sitting down Hermione starts to bite her lip and really think about what she wants to say.

"I can't let go Harry. When I'm with him I can barely take a breath. He makes me feel… he makes me feel… he just makes me feel. I'll take whatever he gives me because no one else stirs in me what he can. I don't feel like I’m just the know-it-all sidekick of Harry bloody Potter when I’m with him. I feel like me. Hermione Granger in her own right. That’s why I go back."

Coming to sit beside her, Harry wraps her in one of his safety hugs. "You have never been _just_ anything, love."

It’s been two weeks. She sees him at one of the stupid Ministry charity balls. She spent hours making her appearance perfect – just in case he’s there. Of course he’ll be there. Her soft chestnut curls, with golden highlights are tamed in an up-do, a few loose spirals framing her heart shaped, flawlessly natural look make-uped face. The gold halter dress show more skin than she would usually be comfortable with but she’s trying to embrace a side of her she has left unused for too long – the sexy side. She even brought insanely high heels to match – never more thankful that she’s a witch can perform cushioning charms.

He, of course, looks perfect; the perfect pureblood scion that he is. Not one wrinkle on the perfect fabric of his attire, no fold out of place. He’s stunning, beautiful in his midnight black bespoke robes – Italian of course. For all his effort, her nerve deserts her as soon as she sees him.

He's here because the Ministry like and want his money, more of it. She's here as a trophy, once more the know-it-all sidekick, the golden girl. This time he has a date; Hermione doesn’t quite manage to stop the ﬂinch that little fact provokes. His face shows nothing. He could be made of marble for all the emotion he shows. Except with her. With her she thinks she sees his soul.

Nothing has turned out like she hoped and she knows it's her fault. When this ﬁrst began in 8th year she was terriﬁed of anyone ﬁnding out; Skeeter was just waiting for her to stumble and provide a juicy career-making headline. Coming out of a break up with Ron, Weasley supporters were in short supply. She didn't have it in her to strain those bonds more while they were so brittle. It ended up not even being worth it. With her and Harry no longer with the two youngest Weasley’s those relationships which had felt so strong before the war had slowly crumbled until all they did now was Christmas cards.

It had been two years and Hermione just didn’t know how to tell him that she wants more. Not just more but everything. Blaise never asked again and she’d been too afraid to bring it up.

_You’re not a coward, Hermione. You’re a fucking Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake. Where’s your courage, where’s your self-respect. You don’t just take not knowing. You demand answers_.

Making her way over to Harry, feeling her own pep-talk wasn’t quite enough to give her the courage to approach her Slytherin secret, she says "I need you to pep talk me. We can have the big discussion about it later but right now I just need you to tell me I can do this."

To Harry's credit he doesn't look surprised for long.

"Alright love.” He gets a big grin on his face and continues with the enthusiasm of his fourteen year old self saving Ron and Gabrielle from the Grindylows. “You, my darling best friend are nobody’s side kick; you are Hermione Fucking Granger - Fighter of Death Eaters, Defender of the Defenceless. You are also the most brilliant witch of our age who managed to keep me alive through the many years of my Gryffindor rashness, which in my opinion, is your most impressive accomplishment. You’re brilliant, you’re amazing. You can do anything."

She took a deep breath as his words and confidence sunk into her psyche. "I can do this. I'm Hermione Fucking Granger."

"You bet you are. Now go show him what he’s missing!"

Hermione sets her shoulders as she makes her decision. She is ﬁerce, determined and strides toward Blaise like a woman on a mission. He would later swear he saw gold glinting in her eyes.

"Granger."

"Blaise."

His look of surprise at her use of his ﬁrst name, no matter how quick it passed, is completely worth it to Hermione. She's never used his name in public like this and certainly never with this kind of familiarity.

The woman at his side is standing with an awkward smile on her face. Even she can feel the undertones in the exchange, though she doesn't know what it means.

Hermione gives her a tight smile and introduces herself. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm an old school friend of Blaise."

"Lovely to meet you Miss Granger. I'm Temperest Oakwood. I have read all about you of course."

Hermione cringes at this. Of course this pureblood beauty has read all about her. Probably believes it all too.

_What am I doing? Did I really think this would work? I didn’t even come up with a plan for goodness sake, just one of Harry’s Quidditch team worthy pep-talks and a flush full of confidence._ Confidence that has now fell flat on its arse.

“Yes, well I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. I only wanted to come say hello. Goodbye now."

Hermione turns around quickly before they can see just how red her face can get; she can feel them coming –the tears – eyes stinging, burning. _Oh Gods, not now. Please, not now, not here_. Just let me get home first. The dam breaks as she reaches the floo. Calling the whole night a personal failure of epic proportions she steps into the floo faster that she could ever recall doing before and sobs out her address.

"Well Crooks.” She sniffles, “It's happened. I finally cracked and completely embarrassed myself."

Her loving familiar just lifts his head and stares as if saying "This is important to me, why?"

Hermione slowly made her way to her bedroom to take off the ridiculous heels and gold dress she thought would catch his eye. She had spent weeks looking for the perfect outﬁt and realizes in that moment just how far she's fallen. Roughly, she removes the pins from her hair as the tears come with renewed waves of despair. She rummages for one of Harry's old t-shirts – _ah-ha, comfort_ \- and her favorite ﬂannel pants she decides now is the perfect time for wine and at least one pint of ice cream, maybe two.

Three hours later, as she sits on her couch wondering where Harry is and trying to decide if she should send him a patronus there's a knock on the door.

Grabbing her wand she slowly and silently makes her way down the hall. Knock knock knock.

"Granger!"

_Oh no, No, no, no, no, no. Why is he here? I can’t take anything else tonight._

“Hermione?"

Blaise calls softly through the door.

"Hermione please let me in."

With a quick pat down of her hair that now looks like Crookshanks played with it, she opens the door a crack.

"May I please come in love?"

"For what Blaise? I'm not in the mood tonight."

"I talked to Potter."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Again I had an almost overwhelming show of support from Moon, Dash, and Snow. Moon was my Editor Goddess again but I always mess with it after she gives it back. ALL mistakes are mine.   
I know this pair already has a name but I'd like to put forth Zabranger. Credit to Snow. She said and it and I Loved it.

At that statement she throws the door open and pulls him in. "I'm going to kill that loud mouth ex best friend! How fucking dare he! I swear the next time I see him…"

Blaise stands in the beige carpeted entryway as she details exactly how she plans to torture, maim and kill the saviour of the wizarding world. It's quite creative and he's very glad in that moment that he is not Harry Potter.

Just watching her he feels the calm that only her presence can bring him, even when she is raging and ranting. He lets it seep into his chest and releases a long breathe. This moment he knows is so important; fragile, a tipping point. He can't afford to mess this up. Too much time has already passed and he'll be damned if he allows another moment between them to slip away unclaimed.

"Hermione", he says, probably a little harshly as he grabs her wrist too, but he needs to get her out of the ranting.

She looks wide eyed up at him and it pains him to see tears in her eyes.

"Why don't you allow me to make you tea and we can talk."

"But you don't know where anything is."

"I think I'll manage. Go freshen up, wash your face and do whatever you do to calm down. I'm not going anywhere."

Hermione leads him to the kitchen and takes her leave, thinking ’_You’re what I usually do to calm down’_.

As he's rummaging around in her cabinets he's struck that he's never been here before. He slows down and takes the time to look around the room. It is so very Hermione and feels like a place easy to call home. Rustic wooden cabinets and soft blue walls with the same calming effect she has on him. There's an adorable collection of cat figurines above the sink and he can't help but smile at them. That's his girl.

Finding everything he needs he sets out to brew a perfect cup of tea for her. He may not have been as good at potions as Draco but he wasn't a slouch either. The kettle whistles and as he's pouring he can feel her in the doorway. His heart beats a little faster, just like it always does when she’s near and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It’s now or never.

“Come sit down, Granger.”

She raises an eyebrow at him for that comment as she makes her way to the tiny round table; he smirks, unsure if it’s his use of her surname that has her looking incredulous, surely this is a first name conversation, or if it’s being invited to sit down by a guest in her home. He loves her name but she will always be Granger to him.

As she sits he comes over and pulls a chair right beside her, grabbing onto her hand. He’s probably holding too tightly but he can’t take the chance of her not hearing him out. He wants to see every expression that passes over her quintessential Gryffindor face.

Right now she just looks wary with a tiny spark of hope that he latches onto as tightly as he is to her hand.

He clears his throat and states, “Something has been brought to my attention and I’m feeling really stupid so I need you to let me get everything out before you start talking. Can you do that for me?”

At her nod he continues.

“The very first thing I think you need to know is that all of those women have just been for show. I’m the Zabini heir and that comes with an unhealthy amount of pressure from my mother to find a wife.”

She begins to open her mouth to say what he is sure isn’t going to be something anywhere near nice. Before she can even get out the first syllable he places a finger to her lips.

“I know Tesoro. I know. I went with it to please my mother but you need to know that I’ve never physically been with any of them. They’ve never meant anything to me. I couldn’t present you as my intended; I didn’t think that was something you wanted. I am hopeful that after this talk though I’ll have an answer for her.”

Hermione has visibly calmed doing his little speech and he's thanking every deity he knows that he managed to say all of that without getting maimed. He knows his girls’ temper and it’s never been anything to scoff at. _Merlin she’s amazing._

“When this thing between us first started I thought my life was taking a very dramatic upswing and I was finally going to be given something good in my life. We hid it and although it hurt that we were hiding what we were to each other, I understood. As time passed I just assumed that this was all I could have of you Granger. You have no idea what you do to me and witch; if all I could have was this then I was going to take it. I could never bring myself to walk away.”

He shakes his head and takes another deep breath, he knows the intensity of his feelings are showing and he’s determined not to scare her. _Can’t fuck this up, can’t fuck this up._ He chants mentally.

“And then I find out from Potter - of all people, Granger, that you think I’m the one who doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you. I understand why you would think that, sort of, but don’t you understand yet… I am powerless when it comes to you? Anything you ask me for I will give, and then some.”

Blaise knows he’s louder than he should be; his Slytherin façade is nowhere to be found right now but he needs her to know without doubt what this is for him. What he’s willing to give her. Everything.

“I’m in love with you Granger. Have been since 5th year.”

At his declaration she begins to laugh. He feels tendrils of apprehension, fear taking hold of him. He wasn’t prepared for this reaction and he’s going to kill Potter if he just made an absolute fool of himself. He starts to wonder just how hard it would be to make The-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn’t-Die disappear. Surely his Slytherin comrades will help with the cause; Draco definitely would.

Hermione finally gets ahold of herself and this is when he notices she’s crying again. Blaise doesn’t know what to make of that, or the laughing or anything at this point.

_Witches! Impossible to understand. I don’t know why we bother trying. Is this not what she wants? _

He hears her take a stuttering breath and release it quickly.

“Blaise….I….I……”

He lets go of her hand and begins to sit back. If she’s about to devastate him he wants as much room as possible between them. He pulls up his occlumency shields and prepares himself for the blow.

“Oh, Blaise. Please don’t do that love. Let me see you. Don’t put your mask on… please.”

He pushes himself to drop them because she has asked but he is still worried about what is to come.

“I love you too,” she finally gets out and it’s everything. Everything he thought he would never have.

“We’ve both been such idiots.” He says, the relief in his voice palpable.

“Erm, I think I prefer dunderhead. My pride won’t take being an idiot. Why has it been so hard to just talk to each other?”

“Well, I am the stereotypical Slytherin and you have been a cowardly lion.”

She hits his arm at that but she’s smiling so he lets himself relax more fully. That tiny spark of hope he showed up at her door with has now roared into an inferno that nothing can put out. Fiendfyre would be intimidated by the fire in his chest.

Hermione gives him a slight smirk with a healthy dose of mischief in her eyes.

“Don’t think for a second we're done talking about those other women Blaise.”

“I would never presume we were. I am yours to command. Name whatever reparations you need and I will do them.”

She simply nods her head at him and a spike of fear hits his spine; he buries it for now though. There are far more important things that need to be taken of.

He stands up and offers his hand to her. As she accepts he can feel her tremble. He knows he’s going to spend the rest of his life making sure she never has a reason to doubt his love for her ever again and he can’t wait to do it. He places his hands on either side of her face as she stands in front of him and let’s his fingers slide into her glorious hair. She’s completely his; he can see it in her beautiful, honeyed eyes - her pupils dilating with longing as he gives her the gentlest smile he’s capable of; the one only she is allowed to see; his pure no-agenda, no-scheme happiness smile.

Slowly moving towards her face he savors every reaction. This is what he’s needed. What he’s always needed. As their lips finally touch and they move together he realizes they’ve both been holding something of themselves back. This kiss. This kiss is what wars are waged over, what poems and sonnets and songs are written to describe. He caresses her bottom lip with his tongue and as she opens up like rose petals to the sun, he finally closes his eyes. ‘_Never again’_ he thinks. ‘_Never again will I be without you’._ She pulls back after a few minutes of slow exploration and gives him her shy smile that makes his chest tighten in the best possible way.

“Would you like to stay the night Blaise?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking time to read this. Please if you're so inclined tell me what you liked or didn't like. I'm always up for some constructive criticism.   
I owe this all to Dash, Snow, and Moon who gave me their beautiful encouragement and support.  
Moon was my Goddess Editor again and polished my rough edges. I fiddled with it once I got it back. ALL mistakes are mine. And in case y'all didn't know writing lemons is terrifying! Haha.  
Not mine. No money.

As Hermione leads Blaise to her bedroom a feeling so very foreign it causes her to gasp washes over her body – it’s not trepidation. They’ve done this dance too many times to be shy around each other. Anticipation. It’s anticipation. To finally be able to show him everything she feels. She is overcome by the tingling sensation that shivers over her skin and still can’t quite believe that the conversation they just had had not taking place in her head. What if she’s only dreaming?

_I think I might just break if this isn’t real. I definitely won’t be able to handle that. _

Blaise could see some shift in her expression and in his perfect way he eases away her fretting; walking her to the bed and just holds her hands.

“I’m here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere. Nothing can take me away from you now witch.” He said with a firm but soft declaration; something both heart-healingly warm and just slightly, adorably desperate. “You would have to physically throw me out of here to make me leave you now and even then, it would be quite the task.”

Air whooshes out of her lungs and her mind backpedals through those annoying little self-preservationist doubts; realizing how silly she’s being but knowing she can’t stop herself, her prized and beautiful mind becomes her own worst enemy. She can’t help how her mind works but right now, she’d settle for switching the ‘think’ function off all together so she can only ‘feel’. Blaise knows her mind as well as her body – he can see it unravelling and knows that this is why she’s never progressed to declaring herself to him before – she’s afraid. Lack of control. Losing herself. Giving in. He isn’t put off by it. He finds it flattering, touching that she gives him enough credit to believe he’s capable of doing such a thing and in that moment he knows. He can. She’s given him that power and he can. He steadies her. He helps her to pull off her t-shirt and old as Merlin pants, leaving her in just her knickers. She feels no embarrassment at this. This is Blaise. He knows her and she’s going to allow herself to trust in that.

Her shaky hands come up to start undressing him. This right here. This is her favorite part. Unwrapping her very own Adonis always gave her the greatest pleasure. To watch every inch of his perfect skin be revealed to her had always been and will always be a… gift. She can’t bring herself to feel bad about just dropping clothing that probably cost more than what she makes in a month onto the floor as his robes and button up flutter into a pool of black. When she makes it to his trousers she notices his breathe quickening and finds an inner smirk worthy of his Slytherin beginnings. He’s just watching her with that molten gaze he has and once again she’s lost.

Hermione slowly undoes his buttons and pushed his trousers down his strong, powerful thighs to the floor; her body following their path. After unlacing his dragon hide boots she pulls them off quickly followed by his socks and the pooling fine black wool of his trousers. Now kneeling in front of him and looking up at the sculpted planes of toned muscle and tight sinew, she feels like she’s at his altar. And she will worship. Oh yes, worship like the entranced devotee she was at this masculine temple of Olympus sent beauty.

“Baby, come up here so I can kiss you,” he pants out.

“Not yet, I need to do this. Please let me do this.”

He nods his assent and her breathe catches as relief washes through her whilst her eyes hungrily devours every inch of his perfection. His piercing dark gaze. Those cheekbones that could cut glass. Plump full lips that she has the honor of kissing and exploring the depths of. His flawless mocha skin. His abs that are still as hard as iron thanks to him still playing Quidditch. She purposefully skips over staring at his cock. She wants to build this moment. Needs to prolong it so that she’s grounded. His legs could easily have been sculpted in reminiscence of a Greek God but her favorite part of him is his feet. For such a picture of masculinity his feet are beautiful and she always ends up staring at them. Blaise barefoot in just track pants should be criminal.

She begins by kissing his feet, licking slowly but surely at the concave of ankle that leads upward. Slowly Hermione makes her way back up, taking her time with every inch of his skin she can reach. Her dreams have been made of this scene and she will not allow him to think for one second longer that he is not the most important person to her. Arriving at his thighs she starts to use her tongue again, long languid kisses. Marking him as hers as she goes. _Hers. Finally hers._

One slow lick starting at his balls and ending at the top of his cock takes him by surprise and he lets out a grunt. She treasures these sounds that he makes as she effects his ever steady, ever cool equilibrium; she shudders at the mirroring response they cause in her own body; liquid pooling at the centre as a pulse of hot desire makes her ache for more. Swirling her tongue at the head, she begins a slow glide down but surprises him again with a hard suction up. Hermione takes to her task in earnest and begins fondling him as she sucks his cock, relishing every twitch, groan and response she can pleasure out of him. His perfect, perfect thick cock. The perfect hard line of muscle which she knows him to wield so well. Even in the miniscule knowledge of other cocks she is pretty sure that this one is a prime example of what a cock should look like. Long. Thick. Pulsating with need. Dripping. For her.

Closing her eyes she became lost in what she’s doing. In the taste of him the feel of his smooth skin in her mouth. She’s taken by surprise when Blaise growls from above her yanks her up to pull her tight against his chest. He grabs her face and completely possesses her mouth. It’s unlike anything he’s ever done and she relishes it.

“I need to taste you sweet girl. On the bed.”

He’s demanding and there’s not a hint of softness to him but oh how she adores it. Blaise roughly pulls her knickers off and dives into her. His aggression makes her shout but all he does is growl some more in response. He slows down a bit and begins to circle her clit with his tongue. Suddenly two fingers enter her and she cries out from the sudden orgasm. As much as they have been together she has never cum this quickly and it has her dazed.

Blaise still has not stopped. His fingers slowly pumping in and out of her he laps up as much of her juices as he can. Like he’s dying of thirst he lets nothing escape him. Now it is she who is being worshipped. She isn’t sure how much more of his assault she can take but once again Blaise proves how perfect he is and removes his fingers to start taking slow laps at her puffy sensitive lips. Laps turn into open mouthed kisses as she finally recovers.

He looks up at her from between her thighs, enjoying the fully dilated quality of her pupils and the relaxed smile that plays on her beautiful pink lips; he starts to kiss his way up to her face, unable to keep the desire at bay to claim her mouth once more. When he makes it to her face he starts with pressing gentle pecks on each eyelid. Softly he kisses all over her face ending at her lips. She tastes herself on him and she can’t believe the taste, the sensation has her arousal peeking higher. Pulling back a bit she just stares at him for a few heartbeats.

“Gods, Blaise; that was……”

Smirking, Blaise replies, “Yeah, it was.”

Hermione can feel him, rock hard and resting right at her sensitive slit. She is beyond ready and tells him so. The smirk that follows is noteworthy in its proportions. He looks so relaxed here with her that it causes her breathe to catch.

_This. This moment is everything. Every painful second leading up to this was worth it._ She thinks.

Blaise begins to slowly push himself into her welcoming heat; at the same time taking a nipple into his mouth. The hard suction makes her pussy clench and pulls a delightful noise from him. She is still amazed at just how good his cock always feels as it fills her. He sets a steady pace and he knows exactly what he’s doing as he clutches her tight to him and he finds that angle that guarantees his pelvis is rubbing her clit. Sweet Merlin, she loves it when he does that.

Hermione is sure at this point she’s babbling but the brain that she is famous for is hardly working at full capacity; in fact it had completely disengaged. He’s playing her like a cherished and favorite instrument and she’s powerless to do anything but feel it. As the crescendo of her orgasm builds she hears him start to chant “I love you". Tears prick her eyes but she’s smiling. She didn’t think it could possibly get better but hearing _those_ words in his delicious deep voice takes her to a place she’s never been before.

Again she shatters before she’s even cognizant of the fact that she’s right there. Blaise speeds up his pace, pounding relentlessly, hitting within her harder. Her screams fill the room and she’s sure that she’s shouted his name as she clawed his back. That’s been drowned out by his yell of “Hermione!”

As they come down he tries to move off her but she locks her arms around him, refusing to let him go.

“Please, don’t move Blaise. It makes me feel safe and I’m feeling a bit needy. Please just stay right there.”

“I’m right here, tesoro,” he says as he props himself up on his elbows, tracing her face with his loving eyes. It’s in these quiet moments, just listening to each breathe and staring, that she fully realizes he loves her too. _He loves her._ She grins at him and she’s positive she looks demented but she can’t stop herself. She finally feels fully happy. Blaise's returning smile is full wattage and it’s almost too beautiful to look at.

Hermione finally allows him to shift their position so that she’s lying on his chest and she begins to match his breathing as she listens to his heartbeats. If this is how love returned feels she never wants to live without it. They fit perfectly together, and the thought that she could have missed this makes her eyes prick. She may have to get Harry a thank you gift; after enough time has passed though so that he’s well and properly scared. Can’t allow him to think he’s in the clear after all.

Finally Hermione waves her hand and calls ‘nox’. It’s still too warm to get under the sheets but she knows when she wakes she’ll be under charmed cool sheets and a warm body will be behind her. She whispers a quiet “I love you” that is quickly returned and falls asleep smiling; safe in the knowledge that she never has to part from him again.


End file.
